


Mr. House's Pet Courier

by tiikaall



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Courier just wants him to adopt her already, Cute, Cutesy, Drabble Collection, Emotions confuse Mr. House, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Happy, Mr. House be lookin' kinda fresh doe, New Vegas, Other, Platonic Relationships, Post-Fallout: New Vegas, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiikaall/pseuds/tiikaall
Summary: Some drabbles about the Courier's relationship with Mr. House. I love him since he pampers the Courier in his ending. :)





	1. The Sweater

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Derelict of The Mojave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919454) by [bela013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013). 

"What's this?" The Courier tilted her head, visible confusion in her eyes. She happened to be digging through one of the many closets in the Lucky 38's suite, trying to clean them out to make room for her things. As it turns out, it wasn't as easy a task as she'd hoped; most of the time was spent coughing and gagging from the smell of the 261 year old clothing, and all the dust filling the air. She tossed onto the floor a couple pairs of pants, some polo shirts, and one rugby shirt that repulsed her. It seemed as if all of the contents in the worn, cherry wood closet were mangled beyond repair, but then, from amongst the musty, hole-ridden garments, out stood an untouched periwinkle sweater. It was still in such perfect condition, which was just about unbelievable. It was pretty, and very obviously for a man, as it looked a little large for her, but it had stolen her heart. When she pulled it off the plastic hanger, which fell apart from the force, the smell hit her immediately; whiskey and the faint hint of cologne. 

_Was this how Mr. House used to smell? His crisp, clean scent?___

Without further hesitation, the Courier slid the sweater on over her tank top, trying to ajust it. The sleeves drapped over her hands, causing her roll them up so they wouldn't get in the way. It was soft, cashmere, maybe? House was rich, so it would make sense if his clothing was crafted out of only the finest materials on this Earth. Though it hanged off her frame slightly, it was warm, grand, undamaged by time. Honestly, the lack of holes still seemed impossible, but it was best not to question it. She swished around in the room, admiring herself in a way that she'd never done before. The Mojave had worn her down, left her hair fried, skin cracked and dry like the desert dust. This was the first time in a while that she could say she felt genuinely beautiful. In the midst of her twirling, a single, restrained knock hit the aged wood of her door.

"Oh! Yes, yes, come in." She quickly ceased her childish behavior. It could only really be a couple people, at that door, and two of those couple weren't people at all.

"Howdy there, partner!" A cheerful, familiar voice from behind the door. _Victor.___

_ _"Victor? Er, you're free to come in. It's not locked.." Her soft voice rang out, followed by the swift turning of the knob. In rolled the robo-cowboy that had saved her life what felt like a lifetime ago. His screen flickered, and her eyes darted to it.__

_ _ "Sorry to bother ya like this, partner! But the boss would like a word!"_ _

"Is that so? Okay... tell him I'll be down." 

"Why don't we go together? Boss doesn't like to wait!" Victor suggested.

"Alright. I could always use the company." She smoothed the sleeves back down, allowing them to dangle once again. Then, she trailed behind Victor, soaking in his gleeful demeanor. He was the only one that felt alive to her; everything else appeared void of emotion.

_Especially Mr. House. ___

He rarely betrayed any sense of emotion, not even a flake of it. He was calm, controlled, always managing to keep up a steady tone of voice. There was only one time he showed her an emotion; annoyance, when the former tribals who run the Ultra-Luxe returned to cannibalism. She recalled that fondly, as Victor pushed an elevator button. He began to ramble to her about the current affairs of Vegas, all the while she would nod occasionally in response, perpetually lost in the thoughts and images of House. 

_What could he possibly want?___

_ _"Here we are! Penthouse floor!" Victor beckoned the Courier to go first, which, she did so accept._ _

"Thank you, Victor. I'll catch you later, alright? Bye bye." She dipped her head, stepping free from the elevator, to greet Jane. She did like Jane plenty enough, but knowing her purpose left a persistent, weirded-out feeling in her gut whenever they talked. Reminding herself of Jane's sweetness, she gave the feminine securitron a soft wave. The giggle from the robot echoed throughout the penthouse. 

"Oh my! Hello, sugar! Nice to see you again! Mr. House is waiting for you in his office!"

_Can it even be called an office, in all seriousness?___

_ _"I appreciate it, as usual. You're looking quite ravishing today, if I do say so myself! Have you lost some weight?" The corners of the courier's semi-chapped lips curved up into a half-smile._ _

_ _"Oh, you flatter me! You're looking cute today, yourself! Don't let me keep you, honey! Making Mr. House wait is never a good decision!" Jane wheeled out of the way, to allow the courier passage down the stairs. _ _

_ _"Thank you so much, Jane. Let's chat some other time, then."_ _

_ _With every shaky step down the stairs, her heart raced faster and faster, the internal image of her boss dancing about in her brain. Sweat formed in her palms, but it wasn't from fear. She was excited to see him again, to talk to him, perhaps ramble on until he sent her away. Maybe, just maybe he'd notice it. But it was doubtful. Slowly then, she entered, to gaze upon the familiar screen, the image upon the monitor that brought her some semblance of joy, that made her feel as if she was a part of something bigger and more elegant than her. _ _

"Hello again, Mr. House," she began, "It's...great to see you. You summoned me?" She bowed, hiding her grin behind her hair. She tried to remain as formal as possible.

"Ah. There you are, lieutenant. Certainly took your sweet time, then?"

"My apologizes, sir."

"Formality... Though you've attempted to make it a habit, it fails to suit you." His voice, so lifeless. It made her wonder what his laugh sounded like. Perhaps she could make him laugh?

"I thought you'd like if I acted like one of your former, boot-licking employees." She sneered, cupping her flushed cheeks in her palms.

"Well, you at least excel at acting...amongst a handful of other things. Enough of that, however. I requested your presence for a purpose. There have been... reports. On the Omertas. Displeasing ones." He remarked, flatly. 

"Again?" She muttered to herself, twiddling her thumbs. 

"Unfortunately. I suggest you be a nosy little courier, pop your head in through their doors, and find out if they're genuine." 

"What are the rumors? The gist of them."

"They entail weapon hoarding; not what I'd prefer to hear. What they're planning with the weapons, is for you to look into." 

"Got it, boss. Should I deal with the problem on the spot, if the rumors come to fruition?"

"Yes, in any way you so please. Now, about that sweater..." A chill ran down the courier's spine. 

_He did notice.___

_ _"Er, I am sorry. It was yours, wasn't it? It looked good, so I put it on-"_ _

_ _"That was mine, yes. Seeing as I can no longer wear clothing, it's yours. I'm quite surprised to see that anything up there remained in pristine condition."_ _

_ _"As was I!" The courier exclaimed. _ _

_ _"I imagine it must have quite a grotesque odor."_ _

_ _"No, no... it actually doesn't. Smells like...well..."_ _

_ _"Like me?" His question made her feel embarrassed, knowing he read her mind. _ _

_ _"Y-yes. At least, what I think you smelled like..." She hid her mouth and cheeks behind the long sleeves. _ _

_ _"..Hah. Now that sweater, that suits you perfectly. I'd enjoy talking to you further, but, the Omertas? You must attend to that." Mr. House's single chuckle, combined with a compliment? It felt so surreal to her. The sheer unusualness of the whole thing nearly convinced her that it was a fever dream of some kind. _ _

_ _"Oh. Oh yeah. Thank you for the compliment. I'll... yeah. I'll go see the Omertas. Farewell, Mr. House." She turned to leave. _ _

_ _"Lieutenant. If you find anymore of my apparel intact, feel free to wear it, since it is of impeccable quality and style; which you are quite deserving of." _ _

_ _"Yes, sir!" A warm feeling coursed through her. She increasingly began to see him as a father-figure, much to her own surprise. She dwelled on that, as she made her way to the Omerta's, clutching her sleeves tightly._ _


	2. Spring Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would appear that the Lucky 38 hasn't had a housekeeper in a good 261 years. The dust and grime is becoming quite bothersome; now what exactly could the Courier do about it?

A sneeze, followed by yet another sneeze. The penthouse bookshelves were a breeding ground for dust, it seemed. She just wanted to read a little, not cough and sneeze her guts out. Waving away the flying particles with her hands, the courier brushed open the pages of a simple, pre-war book, only to inhale another dust wave; eliciting more sneezes. Angrily, she crinkled the exposed pages in her palms, before slamming the book shut, and forcing it back onto the shelves.

_Are you...kidding me-?_

_ _The courier, annoyed, slid a single finger upon the flat top of the bookshelf, then lifted it up to inspect it. _ _

_Dust, grime, filth. Completely repulsive. _

_ _ _ _"Victor," She squawked, "Victor-! Victor, come here." Her yell carried itself down the halls, hoping to find him. She waited for familiar rolling. On schedule, it came. He approached from behind, waving his arm at her. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"What can I do for ya, m'am?" He answered her call, as obediently as ever. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"I need a couple rags and a strong cleaning agent."_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"What-? Er, not sure how exactly I am to get these, partner..." _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Hmm... More than a couple. We need an entire stock to clean this damn mess..." She continued, fumbling with her crooked shirt. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"To clean what mess, friend?"_ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Can't you see all this wretched dust around the place? On every piece of furniture, on every page of every book, which is a hard feat to achieve, if I do say so myself..." _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"...Oookay. Whatever you say, friend. I'll have a looksee. Maybe I'll find what ya need." Victor reached up to tip a hat that wasn't there, and rolled out the way he rolled in._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Yeah, much obliged, Victor..." She wanted to sit down in the chair nearby, but the faded discoloration of the cushion fabric made her weary. It wasn't that House was dirty by choice, he didn't seem to be that type. Well, from what she had envisioned about him, he must have been extremely hygienic in the past; expensive cologne, clean brand name suits, sparkling clean living quarters... With all that money to his name, and being surrounded by the glamour of Vegas, it'd make sense. His lack of mobility made it so that any home-cleaning of his own was impossible, and his disinclination to trust any other person but her to be in his home ruled out the hiring of a staff... _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Well, now that I live here, something is gonna change." The courier announced to no one in particular._ _ _ _

With the help of Victor, the eager courier got to work wiping off the crust and dirt from the furniture in the Penthouse, starting with that infernal bookshelf. The gloves she was using weren't quite for the cleaning process, getting drenched in the chemicals being used, but in this fantastic dystopia, no longer was there a steady supply of the proper rubber gloves needed. Without letting it bother her, she went around the Penthouse floor, scrubbing away manically, much to Victor's concern. By the time she'd finished, the sun was setting; a beautiful, visible scene pouring in through the large, glass windows. Though the courier was about to call it a day, cease her cleaning frenzy, a stupid little thought popped right up, in that noggin of hers.

"Are we done yet?" Victor somehow managed to keep up his positivity, despite the slew of barked orders he had endured for hours.

"Not quite."

"What could we have missed?" Now there was some exasperation. It takes a brilliant programmer to make a robot capable of that.

"I recall... House's monitors having some stains on them." Answered the courier with a hint of mischief in her voice.

"Oh, cmon. Ya can't be serious...?"

"Ohohoho.. but I can. Give me the bucket; I'll scrub the hell outta him."

"You'll get some hell from him for certain, missy." He warned.

"I'm well-equipped to handle just about all that he could possibly throw at me." Bucket in hand and sponge in the other, the Courier stomped towards Mr. House's office. Victor did not follow. She barreled in, water from within the bucket sloshing over the sides, as she teetered from the weight. The display completely caught the business tycoon off guard.

"What's this? Courier, what a-"

"Hello, Mr. House, sir! I'm doing some... spring cleaning."

"It's not even spring." There was hints of snark in his tone.

"So what? I thought, sir, that I'd give your whole set-up there a dusting, a washup, if you will."

"What? No! Have you gone completely mad? Or did the fact that water and electronics do not mix slip your mind?" He countered, hoping to convince her to cease her stupidity.

"Nonsense. I'll be careful. I'll use this rag instead of the sponge. Don't move, okay?" She jeered.

"I do not appreciate your halfwitted humor in the slightest! Lieutenant-" She approached him quickly, as to not allow him to finish.

"No! Ignoramus! Dullard! You mooncalf! Conclude this at once or I will be forced to call my securitrons to detain you!" He snipped angrily, which came as a shock to the Courier. It almost gave her pause. Almost. She reached up, and began carefully wiping away the ages old dust and dirt that had gathered upon the monitor she'd always looked so fondly at. She ignored his enraged babbling, as she gently washed over the smaller camera monitors, and the control panels below the main screen, before returning back to re-wipe the face of House, ensuring she missed nothing.

"See? Not so bad. All clean and sparkly now, and nothing short-circuited or exploded!" She boldly beamed.

"..Ugh, but you are a halfwit at times."

"You didn't call your securitrons. I knew you wouldn't. You're far too fond of me." The courier said haughtily, folding her arms across her chest.

"Calling my bluff then, are you? Perhaps I will have them carry you off, yet. Disobedience is such a lackluster and unflattering trait. Think next time before you act so imprudently." Her confidence melted away at his words.

"....Sorry, sir. I just thought I'd do something nice for you that's equally beneficial. I've cleaned this whole floor, too."

"You presume that I haven't noticed that? Believe me, I have. I did not anticipate, however, that you'd come stampeding in here next."

"You look almost 100 years younger now that your monitor is clean." She jested lightheartedly.

"I do not find you funny."

"Yes you do. I bet you'd crack a smile right now, if it were possible."

"...Anyway. Though unwarranted, I appreciate your efforts, seeing as I am incapable of doing the task myself."

"I know. That's why I did it."

"Next time, ask. Don't just come rushing up with water."

"Ah yes, water; your one, true weakness."

"...There is truth to that, unfortunately."

"I'll see you later, Mr. House, sir." She slid the bucket handle over her arm, and waved.

"Farewell, Courier. " She took a couple steps, and waited.

"...Do come visit again later. I have a plan for Freeside that I need your assistance with." She turned back.

"Yessir. Ah, that shine is blinding! It's brighter than one of Vegas' neon signs, if I do say so myself!"

"Don't quit your day job; you'd be booed off stage if you attempted a comedian routine. So boorish and dreadful!" He quipped, causing her to giggle.

"Got it!"

**Author's Note:**

> I got my inspiration for the 1st chapter from the 1st chapter of The Derelict Of The Mojave. :) So make sure you go check that out, too. ♡


End file.
